


dragged away

by mikkal



Series: sleeping at last (oct '19) [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Hurt Noctis Lucis Caelum, Hurt/Comfort, Status Effects, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 02:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20987339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkal/pseuds/mikkal
Summary: A mandrake gets the better of Noctis in the Myrlwood.Whumptober Day 6: Dragged Away





	dragged away

They don’t mean to enter the Myrlwood just before dusk.

Between hunts and imperials slowly, inadvertently, herding the group towards the entrance, it was only natural they would take one look through the stone archway, exchange looks, and dive right in. Ignis, having done the most research on the royal family though Noctis knows the insignificant details that don’t make it into books, postulates that the Myrlwood is most likely to be home to a Royal Tomb.

“Which king?” Gladio challenges with a smirk. He hefts his greatsword over his shoulder, Brennaere looking comically large even compared to him. He catches Noctis eye and silently dares him to make a comment. Noctis swallows the tease but not without a shit-eating grin. It’s only the looming forest behind the stone wall that keeps him from making a quip, making light in the darkness is Prompto’s thing. “C’mon, Iggy, don’t you know?”

Ignis glares at him, sliding his glasses back up his nose in one sharp movement. “I believe we might make it,” he says instead of dignifying Gladio’s question with a remark. “What do you think, Noct?”

Noctis shrugs as he stretches out his back, sighing in relief when some tension pops. “I don’t care,” he says, glancing up at the sky where the sun is slowly drifting towards the horizon. “I just want to get this over with.” Ignis sighs like he’d been expecting that answer. “Look. I want the Royal Arms as much as the next Lucian heir, but I’m _tired_. I’m even willing to stoop low enough to _not_ complain about a Haven.”

“Holy shit,” Prompto comments. Noctis sticks his tongue out at him.

“What are the chances there’s a Haven _in_ there?” Gladio jerks his chin into the dark forest. Even though the sun is still hanging on valiantly, there’s a certain darkness to the path in front of them that has them a little nervous about too brave, too strong daemons. “There was one on Ravatogh.”

Prompto nods. “Maybe at least a Sanctuary?”

Noctis makes a considering face. Sanctuaries were rarer than Havens, Havens having been built by Oracles of the past and upkept by people who had magic before it became an exclusive bloodline thing. Sanctuaries, on the other hand, were natural spots in the world where nothing evil or dark could touch. They were never as big as Havens, not as powerful, but there were a couple Havens here and there that Noctis knew started out as Sanctuaries and were boosted by Oracles.

There’s only four of them. Most Sanctuaries he’s seen were big enough for them all.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he decides for sure. Ignis smiles slightly at his determined expression and it takes everything Noctis has not to roll his eyes. “The faster we get in, the fast we get out. I’m thinking…Galdin Quay?”

“_Yes_,” Prompto practically moans. He’s already summoning Rebellion in a flash of crystals. “A nice hot shower where I don’t bang my elbows on the walls?”

“Where I get hot water for once after Pipsqueak is done?” Gladio adds as he side kicks Prompto in the ass. The gunner yelps, leaping forward into the growing darkness before he scrambles back, waving his free arm in the air threateningly. “Yeah, yeah. Tell it to someone who’s actually scared of you. Oh wait, _no one _is.”

“Children!” Ignis says sharply before Prompto can even open his mouth—probably to say something vulgar and swear-ridden if Ignis has learned anything from experience. Noctis is laughing unashamedly, eyes glimmering with mirth. “Let us go before it gets dark enough that someone runs into a tree. Perhaps they might even do it _accidentally_.” He summons his own daggers, twirling them between his fingers in an unnecessary flourish but adds to the threat underlining his words. “Unto the breach once more?”

The sound of a magitek armor dropping down far too close to the entrance is what really gets them going.

It doesn’t take them long to realize how hopeless the Myrlwood really is. There’s something different about these woods, the stone walls on either side keeping them herded, the worn path that reads of the multiple creatures that could make this place home. They have nowhere to go if this goes south, unlike the forests and woods of Duscae. There’s always an escape plan there.

“I don’t like this,” Prompto says, voice thin as the shadows grow.

“Wuss,” Gladio replies, though even he sounds a little nervous.

Ignis murmurs over Noctis shoulder, “I don’t want to meet whatever creature made _that_ sort of mess,” and points toward a massive tree broken in half, like an equally massive or even bigger monster crashed into it. It’s rotten black with ladders of mushrooms rooted deep. Noctis has to agree, he’s kind of done with the whole giant monster thing right now, if not forever.

They come into a wider area, not something that could be called a clearing what with all the rocks, trees, and spots of water too big to be puddles but too small for ponds. The path still leads straight through, but now there’s something even deeper on all sides that has the four of them bunching up protectively. An orange-red tint casts everything in an ominous light.

Noctis trips over a root, it’s inevitable when the shadows take the ground first, and in catching himself from falling he ends up a couple feet away from his friends. He turns to make it back but that’s when he feels a cold, rough, slimy hand clutch around his ankle. He doesn’t even get to look before it’s yanking abruptly, sending him to the ground with a yelp.

“Noct?” Ignis calls.

He tries to shout back, but when he opens his mouth, the hand starts dragging and he gets a mouthful of rotten leaves and dirt. He chokes, kicks out only to catch what feels like a living, breathing tree trunk with the heel of his shoe. Noctis twists in its hold, scrabbling at the ground, trying to grab onto something, _anything_, only for whatever’s got him to be far stronger. A broken branch drags a fiery line of pain along his side.

Noctis flips around, kicking out again, and stares in wide-eyed horror at the monstrosity dragging him away from his friends. It looks like a hunched humanoid made out of bark, a bunch of feathery ferns grow out of its shoulder blades, its tail is long and green and curling too much like a snake for comfort. It grunts and growls, tugging on Noctis’ leg every now and then in sharp, jerking movements that grind at his joints.

No wonder it felt like he’d been kicking a tree! It’s a gods damned mandrake.

He reaches into the aether for a fire flask only to come up empty because _of course_. That’s what he gets for procrastinating—though, to be fair, he’s been prioritizing hi-potions and hi-elixirs over elemancy for ages now. So, he grabs for his engine blade instead, fully intending on severing the mandrake’s hand from its wrist.

Only for sharp, needle-like nails to dig through the leather of his boot and pierce his skin. Something like fire, acid, _pain_ burns through his nerves and he cries out, hand falling limp as all his strength disappears. Confusion clouds his thoughts. What _is_ this? His entire body feels numb, unresponsive, but he’s sure he can—see, there goes his fingers, he can _move them_, so why does he feel like this?

The mandrake turns and grabs his other leg, holding Noctis by the calf and, again, digging its nails in until blood wells up and streams into his boot and onto the ground. Noctis chokes on a scream as the pain increases tenfold and what little strength he had left, if any, fades. He flops boneless over rocks, the sharp edges of them tearing his clothes and through his skin leaving his back a bloodied mess. He stares up at the trees, tears prickling his eyes are how helpless he feels. It’s a stupid mandrake, he’s killed a good dozen of them before and all he remembers is their claw swipes and the occasional ability to cast confusion through their breath attacks.

He tries to lift his arm. Nothing happens. Something scrapes his face as they pass. The dragging moves his arms until they trail above his head, letting them take hits from trees and rocks. By the time this is over, his arms are going to resemble pulp more than actual arms.

How wide is this place anyway? Or is the mandrake taking him _deeper_ in the Myrlwood? He doesn’t hear his friends. They would’ve immediately come after him, so either the mandrake is faster than he thought or something else got to them. Panic washes over him at the thought, that something—maybe whatever broke that tree in half—ambushed them and he can’t do anything to help them because he got taken down by a _single_ _mandrake_.

_Fuck_. He closes his eyes against the dirt. “Help!” he shouts even though it burns him to do so. Asking for help in any capacity never sat well with him, even back in Insomnia. Not because of pride or anything, no matter what some people would say, but because he didn’t like, doesn’t like, the idea of burdening people with things he should be able to handle.

Like this.

“Iggy!” His voice cracks and wavers. Shouting two words is enough to leave him exhausted. The mandrake pulls hard with both hands over a large rock in the way. He chokes on a scream and he goes up and over the jagged pieces. “Gl-Gladio! Prom-Prompto!”

There’s a small cave, barely big enough for a grown man of Gladio’s stature, and the mandrake is heading straight for it. Noctis forces himself to move, to fight, but there’s still nothing. The mandrake’s claws still pierce his skin, shifting until there’s ribbons sliced into his flesh. It lets out a coughing laugh and if Noctis didn’t know any better, he’d say it’s entertained by his inability to struggle.

Is it going to _eat him_? They’re carnivorous. There’s been a couple hunts in the area for them because they’ve eaten livestock and he’s pretty sure the dog tag Dave had them get in the Vesperpool was owned by a guy eaten by one. His stomach churns.

Sword. Gun. Explosion. He’d rather have any other death than being consumed alive.

Noctis is about to shout again when a gunshot pierces the air and the mandrake stumbles. It drops one of his legs with a screech, tail whipping out but Prompto’s too far away to reach. Gladio cleaves Brennaere through the winding snake-like appendage, detaching it from its body just as Ignis comes rushing in with fire on his daggers.

They make quick work of the mandrake, but the commotion draws out more. Noctis can only lay there helplessly as a nest of them swarm out of the cave. Oh yeah, he was definitely going to be eaten. He wants to laugh at that. And he does, actually. It’s a little hysterical, but who can blame him?

“Noct!” Gladio shouts. “Get your ass up!”

His laughter turns into wheezing, no less hysterical. Noctis would _love_, more than anything, to get up and fight. But he can’t. He can’t and that scares him so much. Ignis calls his name in concern, surrounded by too many enemies to make it over to his prince’s side. Noctis tries to twitch his fingers and nearly cries when he manages to curl them into the blanket of leaves covering the ground. Maybe what the mandrake did to him is wearing off?

Prompto’s shadow looms as he stands at Noctis’ head, protecting him long-range as Gladio and Ignis take care of the last of the nest. Noctis watches him take shots, hitting his targets with ease, and grins proudly. He had nothing to do with Prompto’s talents, but it’s always nice to see his friend live up to all the hype.

When the last mandrake falls, night has fully descended, leaving them in darkness Prompto drops to his knees, Rebellion disappearing in a flash, and flutters his hands around Noctis’ face, unable to decide where it’s safest to place them . Ignis and Gladio rush over, the former throwing his daggers back into the armory and coming out with a potion in hand.

“What happened?” his advisor asks. Noctis sighs in relief at the healing effects of the potion washing over his wounds. They can’t heal everything but does shallow the deeper gouges. It does nothing for his lack of strength though.

Noctis shakes his head the best he can as Prompto finally takes his arms in a gentle grip and moves them to his sides instead of over his head. “I don’t know,” he says. “The mandrake grabbed me and then I just lost all my strength. I can’t move.”

Ignis frowns, eyes trailing from the cut on his side and the state of his arms to his bloodied calf. He touches his knee carefully, using Gladio’s torchlight to illuminate the wounds. “Forgive me,” he tells Noctis before he digs his fingertips into a bruise Noctis had picked up earlier today. Noctis yelps in surprise and pain, leg kicking out reflexively. Ignis immediately pulls back and drags a hand over his good side in apology. “Mandrakes are known to have an enfeebling effect,” he says slowly. “A sort of paralytic, if you will.”

“To eat people,” Noctis says, not looking at any of them.

He nods. “Not necessarily humans, but for larger prey, yes. I’m afraid we have nothing to counter its effects. We will have to rely on time for now.”

Noctis’ eyes burn with tears. Of course. _Of course_. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Gladio snorts. “Don’t be,” he says, but he sounds harsh about it. Noctis can’t help but flinch. Ignis snaps out and jabs his knuckles into Gladio’s leg. The Shield swears, glaring at the advisor only to see a much more heated glare staring back. His expression drops in surprise and he follows Ignis’ look to see Noctis looking dejected and ashamed. He sighs. “Noct—.”

“There’s a Haven around here,” Noctis announces. He felt the magic inherent to Havens and Sanctuaries before the mandrake grabbed him. “Let’s stay the night.”

Ignis hesitates then, “Gladio, if you will.”

The Shield drops his greatsword into the armory and steps up, feeling a bit ashamed and regretful himself. He presents his back to his liege and says, “I don’t want to make your back worse.”

Prompto and Ignis pull Noctis up. It makes it a little easier when they all realize the enfeebling effect is slowly wearing off and Noctis can _almost_ help. Gladio hooks his hands under Noctis’ thighs as Prompto goes around to lock his ankles together and Ignis arranges his arms so he doesn’t have to exert _any_ strength to hold on.

Ignis tsks at the sight of his torn up back, pulling back some of the tattered fabric to get a good look. He pulls out another curative, going for a hi-potion this time. The result of that is a bit better than the single potion from before. The only things left behind is the gouge on his side, smaller now, and a few deeper scrapes on his back. The puncture wounds from the mandrake’s nails are pinpricks at this point.

They walk in silence in the direction Noctis indicates. Gladio staring at Ignis’ back, stomach rolling, and the words stuck in his throat. Noctis is a comforting weight on his back, his breaths hot on his neck and proof he’s conscious and alive. The moment he yelped and didn’t answer Ignis’ call was the moment Gladio thought it was all over. They were going to find his dead body, abandoned and cold, and Gladio would’ve failed on so many levels even beyond his station as a Shield and Crownsguard.

The light of the Haven propels his thoughts to his mouth.

“Sorry,” he says. Grunts, really, but ‘sorry’ never came easily to him. Noctis hums questioningly. “Anyone could’ve been taken down like that. It wasn’t your fault.”

Noctis snorts. “Could’ve been paying better attention,” he mutters.

Gladio shrugs. “Yeah, but we all could’ve been paying better attention. It’s my _job_ to pay attention.” Ignis and Prompto are waiting for them on the Haven’s surface, the glow making them look otherworldly. There’s a small pond next to it, fed by a medium size waterfall, and a small fishing dock extends from the shore. “What I’m saying is: don’t be sorry,” and it comes gently this time.

He’s quiet for a long moment. “I’m fishing in the morning,” he says.

“Only if your up for it,” Gladio says, relieved in more ways than one.

Noctis nods. “And then we see what’s at the end of this shit hole.” Gladio can feels his smirk pressed against his shoulder as he continues with, “_Then_, Galdin Quay. Prompto gets second shower. After me.”

“…charming.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Whumptober wouldn't be taking me so long if I _wrote shorter things._  
2\. I don't mean to have so many scenes with Gladio and Noctis at the end. I really need to give Prompto and Ignis some love. That will happen...eventually.  
3\. I going to reply to comments. I'm going to try and catch up on prompts first OR be less days behind, whichever happens sooner.  
4\. SCORE FOR A CREATIVE TITLE. /s I just couldn't come up with the creative juices for a better one.  
5\. Thought I'd go for an unusual status ailment. Unusual by the fact that enfeeblement isn't exactly something I've seen used in fics before?
> 
> tumblr @mikkalia15  
twitter @mik_kal15  



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